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Saturday August 3, 2013 7:45 AM

Helen Thomas once prompted Fidel Castro to quip that the primary difference between Cuban “
democracy” and its American counterpart was that he didn’t “have to answer questions from Helen
Thomas.”

In the fall of 2011, I found myself sitting next to the journalistic legend during a private
party hosted by her friends and professional acquaintances.

A last-minute invitation took me to a banquet room at the National Press Club in Washington — an
entity to which, years earlier, Thomas had fought to gain entrance for women.

She was the guest of honor, a retired old hand greeting and warmly thanking those who had
come.

She sat with the composure belonging to the leaders of a trade.Near her was an empty chair,
which I took with the bold impropriety belonging to displaced farm boys.

Her handshake belied her age — 91 at the time — and underscored the firm resolution upon which
she had built her career.

Her eyes were sharp and penetrating, both honest and demanding of honesty.

We talked about the field of presidential candidates, with both of us perhaps thinking of the 11
presidents she had seen assume and leave the Oval Office.

My short tete-a-tete with Thomas ended all too quickly, as I reluctantly yielded my chair to
other guests who had fallen into a line to speak to her.

The evening progressed, and, when a question-and-answer session began, hands shot up as
attendees vied to have the Thomas-like privilege of asking the first question.

Her time was limited, and, before long, word came that she could field just one more
question.

I was among the many people in the room who raised their hands, but she selected me with a firm
nod. I stood and asked:

“Ms. Thomas, in a day and age when amateur journalism and media sensationalism have begun to
eclipse the press’s role of informing, what can be done to restore its place and reputation?”

Her slight pause hinted that she might have mulled the question a time or two before. She looked
at me, then the rest of the room, and said:

“I do not know the answer to that. But I do know that the press must maintain its integrity. It
is nothing without its integrity. That is what it is counted on for.”

Integrity.

There is no need to conjecture what Thomas meant, for her whole life stands as a testament to
the meaning she placed in the word.

She never sought to entertain or palaver to her readers; she strove instead to extract the truth
from those governing as a matter of duty to the governed.

Thomas staunchly believed that our nation’s freedom is bound closely to the level of knowledge
that citizens have about the government’s doings.

“They owe us the truth,” she once said.

And no other journalist worked so indomitably to collect that debt.

Thomas, in both persona and spirit, represents a strong motif in the American narrative
embodiment of courage and self-determination.

Her sometimes-astringent approach to routing out the truth from the most recalcitrant of leaders
was a true grit of sorts — something uncommon today, when the press could use it most.

Her unwavering moxie and charge of integrity should be etched in the minds of every member of
the press.
Matthew Eley, a 20-year-old Kenyon College student from Howard, Ohio, recalled his opportunity
to meet Thomas upon learning of her recent death.